


Exit Stage Left

by ThePlagueBeast



Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Theatre, I don't know what's happening here, Sansa Stark in Dorne
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-04
Updated: 2020-09-05
Packaged: 2021-03-06 17:08:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,036
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26292400
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ThePlagueBeast/pseuds/ThePlagueBeast
Summary: Sansa Stark, perfect eldest daughter of Ned and Catelyn Stark left home one day, and did not return.---It's a shower idea, IDK what the plot is. The first chapter is Cat having a freak out so if that sounds fun come and read!
Relationships: Sansa Stark/Happiness
Comments: 13
Kudos: 22





	1. Prologue

She’d left. She’d just- Just up and vanished! Her baby girl, _gone_ with no word. No note! Phone on her nightstand, laptop on her desk, house keys on the hook by the front door. But her clothes, and jewelry, and some precious momentos, they were all gone as well, with a single suitcase from the matched set and her school backpack that she didn’t need as of last spring. And even still her bedroom was as perfectly clean and pin neat as it always was, only the empty spaces where things _should_ be to show they were missing.

She was trying not to panic. Panic would not be good for the rest of her children (blessedly all home on time today, even Arya). Ned had holed himself up in his office the moment they realized something was wrong (something with Sansa, that is, and he did only hide from her, didn’t he?) leaving Catelyn to try and interrogate the rest of their offspring.

She started with Robb, he and Sansa had been close from the moment she was born after all. Best friends as siblings, what could be better?

Except, apparently she’d stopped talking to him. “Dunno, couple years Mum,” he’d mumbled, brows drawn tight together, “thought maybe she just didn’t want to talk to me about, y’know, girl stuff?” He shrugged and bit his lip. “But thinking about it, we haven’t really had a conversation since she was twelve, I’d guess.”

And Cat struggled to believe that, her children were _close_ she **knew** they were, they’d played together all the time as children. But then, yes, Sansa had started with her school activities and after-school activities and tutor sessions and she’d stopped saying so much at meals (“Fine, Mum”, “I’m alright”, “It went well”, “No homework” played on a loop through her head, _years_ of dinner table talk boiled down to two words at a time) and had she ever really spent much time with Arya or Bran or Rickon after they were out of diapers?

No, no she couldn’t believe that. So onto the next oldest and she pulled Arya aside and assured her she wasn’t in for a scolding for whatever it was she’d done this time (because she’d always done _something_ and they both knew it). And she asked her whether Sansa had seemed… off. Different, of late.

The answer wasn’t heartening. Arya explained like she was talking to a particularly slow puppy that she barely _saw_ Sansa on any given day, that the most time they spent near each other was at meals and that the last time they’d texted it was because Sansa was with Mum at the store and Arya wanted a specific kind of chips and knew Sansa would check her phone faster, and that was two months ago.

So she went to her younger son and hoped against hope, prayed a bit even, that he’d have some insight into his eldest sister that the older siblings had lacked. And he did, the observant boy. And she hated every word.

“She’s been getting quieter for _years_ , Mum,” he said, giving her a heartbreakingly apologetic look. “I remember when I was little and she’d sing all the time but,” he bit his lip (so like Robb sometimes), “she kept getting teased for it, or sometimes you’d scold her for being too loud, so she just kind of,” he shrugged, “stopped. And then she got so busy with all those activities, and Mum… I don’t think she even _liked_ half of them, I think she just wanted a full schedule every day. Be out, with friends if she had any, doing something,” a wince, or a grimace, she wasn’t sure, “something you’d approve of.”

But her girl was so good, and pious, and skilled at everything she tried her hand at. It just made sense she’d be involved in the church group’s activities, and the piano lessons, surely she liked those, and the sports! All the children liked sports, they were all such active kids! And alright, maybe she’d been firm on her ‘no’ for letting her try out theatre, but that just meant that she started with the school choir as well as the church choir and her voice was wonderful, so was that a bad thing really?

And, yes, she hadn’t let her run track but she was amazing as a cheerleader, everyone thought so. And of course she wasn’t part of the school’s band, she’d wanted to try the _trumpet_ and that was _not_ an instrument for a sensible young lady, so she’d gotten her piano lessons and, well, she _must_ have liked them. She always went, and Cat always got such praise from her teacher!

So she sat down and tried to think, and think, about a teacher Sansa had ever mentioned as anything other than ‘good at their job’, maybe someone she’d turn to for advice. She tried to think of a friend, anyone mentioned more than in passing. She wracked her brain for names, any names, even something like a boy she’d fancied, that might have led her astray perhaps.

Nothing.

Oh there were names, they’d pop up once in reference to some event or activity, and then never again. She never asked to go out with friends, never asked to have anyone over. 

At a loss, Cat went to Sansa’s room and picked up her phone and unlocked it (they knew all their children’s passcodes, and their children knew they knew) and went to her texts to see who she’d messaged last and what about and found it was a week old and the listing was ‘Jeyne (Maths)’ wishing her a happy summer.

So she scrolled through her contacts and found them all similar, a name and where she knew them from and every conversation was similar, polite greeting, then factual information (class times, event locations, so-and-so was out sick, updates on a group project), and then the conversation was done.

She wasn’t scared, not quite yet. Sansa was only supposed to be home two hours ago and maybe she’d just… just… had a conversation face-to-face with someone (who?) and decided to stay over? Maybe just, expand her boundaries a bit (but she would’ve left a note) (she wouldn’t have done it at all) (not the Sansa I know) (she’s a good girl, she’s never in trouble) (then why isn’t she home?)

She sat the phone back where she found it and went to Ned and, swallowing hard as she opened his office door. “Dear,” she started, waiting until he looked up from his laptop, “I don’t know where Sansa is.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Onwards, to Sansa's current life!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>   
> Courtesy of RedBirdBlackDog! _**Thank you <3**_

It was so warm and sunny today. Well, it almost always was, down in Dorne, but having spent 99% of her life in the overcast greyness of the North, the sun and warmth of Dorne were still novel, and thus to be enjoyed via basking in every free moment.

Which led to Sansa, sprawled out on a wrought iron chair outside a tiny cafe, an iced coffee slowly melting in front of her, sunglasses perched on her nose (because otherwise she’d have an unattractive squint thing going on), sundress blowing in the breeze (one of three she’d brought with her, majority of her clothing being too heavy and thick for this climate), and her cell phone (a new one, older model than her old one, but new to her, with a pale blue case with dragonflies on it) in her hand while she waited (and tried not to bite her nails, terrible habit she never did quite break no matter what Mum thought) for a callback.

Because that’s why she was in Dorne. The _theatre district_. And, oh she _knew_ it wasn’t going to be an easy thing, to try and get work as a stage actress, but if there was ever something she wanted the most in her life it was to be on a stage and _performing_. To be seen, not as herself, but as a character she could bring to life! (For someone to acknowledge she was playing a part, for once.)

So she was sitting in the bright sunshine, sipping at her sweet-but-not-saccharine coffee, tap-tap-tapping her manicure (that she was **not** nibbling off) on the back of her phone, waiting ever so patiently for it to buzz and put her out of her misery.

And then it did! Buzz, at least, the misery was still up in the air (it would either be gone entirely or multiply). Her phone buzzed and she flipped it over and almost sent it flying out of her hands but caught it after a brief struggle and saw that it was, in fact, her contact at the theatre or for the play or whatever (she wasn’t entirely clear on the work/social structure involved, just that she went to audition and was given a number she’d hear from one way or the other) and she accepted the call the moment her hands stopped going every which way.

“Hello?”

 _”Hi, is this Sansa Stark?”_ a woman’s voice asked.

“Hi, yes, hello!”

 _”Hi Sansa,”_ she could hear a warmth in her tone that made her think she was smiling, _”I’m calling about your audition for The Book of R'hllor, we’d like you to come back, read a few more lines and see how you get along with other potential cast members. How does that sound?”_

She couldn’t breathe, her mouth was open and she could feel the air in her throat but it wasn’t _moving_ , how could she talk if she couldn’t move air?!

 _”Sansa?”_ the voice again, gently, “How does that sound dear?”

“Fantastic! Amazing, perfect, yes, absolutely, I can be there, uhm, any time. Whenever. I’m definitely free. Just, yes, just let me know?” She was babbling and all but slapped her free hand over her mouth to cover it. So much for not moving air.

A dry chuckle from the other end and, _”Alright dear, I’ll text you the time and location details. Do you have any questions before I let you go?”_

“Oh, uhm, yes, just one actually. I didn’t catch your name earlier? At the theatre, that is.”

_”Ellaria Sand. Have a good afternoon Miss Stark.”_

“You, as well. Thank you. Goodbye Ms. Sand!”

 _”Just Ellaria,”_ and then the line went dead and Sansa was left trying not to drop her phone (again) with numb fingers.

She hadn’t got the part (which part was it again?) but she’d gotten a callback and that was huge, massive, that was… kind of ridiculous, she’d only been in Dorne a couple of months, almost three, and she had been auditioning just about the moment she got off the train, but still! 

She couldn’t help but hope that this hadn’t all been madness after all. She’d basically run away from home and nevermind the fact that she was legally an adult, she’d gone and run off with the smallest possible impact on their lives. Slipped away in that tiny limbo period where everyone was gone from the house (she’d cut out early on a piano lesson, feigning wrist pains) with her backpack and a suitcase and all the money she’d been saving (technically in secret but no one ever asked her about her tutoring compensation, did they?) and it was years worth (easy when she didn’t have anyone to buy anything for except herself and, really, she had everything she needed and they’d never get her what she _wanted_ so might as well) and more than enough to get her single occupancy self down down down as south as south goes into Dorne.

And it was enough to cover an apartment in a not-horrific part of town, though it was a studio and the bathroom was basically a closet, it had windows that opened onto a children’s play area and not a brick wall so it was fairly nice as those things go.

And it got her a new phone, and some slightly more weather-appropriate clothes.

And a plant, for her apartment. Something that needed her, just a little bit.

Smiling, she finished off her coffee, dropped the empty disposable in the garbage, and strode on home. For once feeling really, truly, properly happy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And a thank you to Nine Inch Snails for the play name, and all future ones!

**Author's Note:**

> This is even less thought out than most of my stories so, fair warning, I've no idea what's happening (as ever), when it's happening, and only the vaguest notion of who it's happening to. I don't know if there will even _be_ any shipping here. It's gonna be. Something. Definitely something. We'll find out _what_ together!


End file.
